


Temperaments of Winter

by TrashqueenofAngmar91



Series: Of Shadows and Tenderness [14]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: And she’s ultra distrusting of folks, Angst, F/M, Gondor still has no king, Headcanon, Kings & Queens, Major AU, Not all “bad guys” are bad, Not all “good guys” are good, Politics, Reader is Kind of a Bitch, Reader is a woman, Reader is of the race of Man, Royal Courts, Slow Burn, Some of the Nazgul free themselves from Sauron’s influence, Tags will be added as the story goes along, The Silmarillion References, The Witch-king is of the line of Elros, Third Age, Worldbuilding, like holy shit this is ridiculous, so basically he’s Arwen’s cousin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29496609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashqueenofAngmar91/pseuds/TrashqueenofAngmar91
Summary: You had no say in the matter. Your kin became concerned with you wallowing about in grief and misery and they were ecstatic at the invitation extended to you. Now you found yourself part of the Arnorian queen’s entourage as she made her way to the northerly kingdom of Angmar to visit her distant cousin. You would not enjoy this and you would hate the way his invisible eyes lingered on you.Rewrite of “Upon the Edge of a Knife”.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Witch-King of Angmar/Reader
Series: Of Shadows and Tenderness [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/806124
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	1. Tidings From the North

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyyyyyyy I can’t believe I cooked this thing up. What in the actual fuck is wrong with me. Oh well. Literally woke up one day snd wanted to write a new, long Witch-king/Reader story. I know I tried it earlier but I took it down, it just didn’t work out. But I’m hoping that the rewrite of that work will he better. I have a clearer idea of what I want to do. Sort of, anyway.
> 
> Unlike my other LOTR Reader fics, I’m gonna try my hardest to not use a name. If I can’t get out of it, we’ll just call her Isilme like in the other stories. Basically, this Reader and the other one are the same except the Reader in this story...she’s a bit different. She’s complicated and she is a bitch LOL. I’ll also be using her family in this story too because heck makes her believable to have some family and you need characters for a story.
> 
> That’s it I think. The tags explained some of the plot too. But yeah, hope you enjoy it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most of the people of Arnor have no kind words to say of their neighbor.

Temperaments of Winter

Chapter 1 Tidings From the North

(The Third Age, early December of the year 3000 – the outskirts of Fornost, capital of Arnor)

Winter arrived early. Fires were kept constantly burning and Men retreated into their homes to escape the biting cold if it could be avoided. Frost had been clinging to windowpanes almost everyday since mid-November but the true heralding of winter arrived when on this particular morning, there was a few inches of snow on the earth. It even lain upon the naked canopies of the trees, looking as if a cold, white blanket had completely covered the land.

Now the Arnorians donned their fur-lined cloaks and woolen garb, knowing that this season could not be denied. It was a long, cold, dark and harrowing time. They far preferred spring and summer and the torrent of rain and the kiss of the sun. Yet they were only comforted by the fact that in a few months, shoots of green would be cresting from the frosted soil. They would be patient, resolute and watchful as they had been for generations.

On this especial day, the sun was out but it almost felt as if it wasn't even really there. The sky was cloudless and blue but it did not matter how much Arien's chariot shone. It glowed unobstructed and yet it could not warm a thing on the earth below. It was a cruel irony. It also did not help that a frigid wind from the North blew about, baring away any warmth the sun radiated out.

Winter had come early. Many Dunedain were already suspecting it would be overstaying its welcome as well and that spring might be late. And many out of that number would turn their gaze to their neighbor and bid him their bitter thanks. That was the way it always was.

Despite their dislike of the cold, those who had their pressing duties tended to them. They had to return to work to feed their families and support their livelihoods. The world around them continued to move and time would not stop for any one soul. Moving on was all one could do.

This was the season of vigilance for many of your folk. There were also others who were not as suspicious and wary but in your eyes, they were fools. If they were not careful enough, the winter and the creatures that thrived in it would destroy them and their kin. The days were frigid and the nights were long and tedious.

It was not uncommon for some families to keep watches during the winter. Someone would stay awake the whole night and look out for anything foul while the rest of their relatives slept. This was a practice that was commonly observed by those who dwelt close to the border. It was probably even reasonable to say that the Dúnedain who lived so near to the border of Angmar were some of the most hardened, fearless and hasty members of their kind. They were poised to defend themselves at a moment's notice and were determined to take as many enemies as they could with them if they were to indeed perish.

In reality, the last time an invasion such as this occurred was three hundred years ago. The invaders were nothing more than a particularly belligerent and Man-hating band of Orcs acting on their own accord but to many Arnorians, this was a sanctioned attack on themselves. To many, it felt as if it had happened yesterday. A few centuries passed since the assault but time did nothing to heal it.

In fact, nearly two thousand years had passed and tensions still were high and prevalent. The Arnorians wouldn't forgive and forget. The horrors of the Second Age still lived fresh in their minds although none of them were even alive to see these events with their own eyes. The legends and stories ran deep and to ignore history was to invite tragedy and let mistakes be repeated once more.

Yes, winter was an inconvenience. But that was all it was. In your eyes, it was a challenge more than anything else. And it was a challenge you would rise to. You were determined to thrive and work through it to spite the enemy.

It surprised you to see the white cover spread out as far as your eye could see but it was no real problem. It was nothing you couldn't handle. You only wore your heaviest and warmest clothes and a pair of boots crafted from bear hide and pelt.

The house you dwelt in was still quiet. The fire continued to burn through the evening thanks to your efforts. While your mother begged you to go to bed and rest for the night, you refused. You kept the hearth glowing and hot. But just because morning had arrived didn't mean your duties were finished. There were other tasks you had to complete now.

After throwing another few cuts of wood into the fireplace, you soundlessly left. You wanted to be out of your house before your mother began to stir. You were in no mood to listen to her lectures. But before you departed, you grabbed a hunk of day old bread and a strip of venison jerky for breakfast. You'd eat them while you made your way to your destination.

As soon as you slipped past the front door, you could hear the creak of the floorboards above you. Someone was walking about finally. That was your cue to make haste.

(…)

Luckily, the snow was not very deep. And as you hiked along your route, the snow became more like a powder and when the wind blew, it moved with the consistency of an icy dust. The trail you walked was well-worn. In fact, it was used every single day for many years, weather and circumstances permitting. It was used by your grandfather, father and now by you. You had made this journey so many countless times that you could probably walk it blindfolded and not stumble on the path.

They thought it was necessary and you were well in accord with them.

Exhaustion tugged at you. You only lightly dozed off once or twice during the night but it was never for long. You were far too focused on keeping the fire burning to ensure that your home and family was warm. There was no time for rest just yet. Besides, you liked this walk in the woods. It cleared your mind and you were granted solace and peace. This was something you took joy in.

You continued to walk up the inclined hill, making your way to your stop. Birds chirped and called out to each other in the trees above you. It was a reassuring sign. You also heard and saw squirrels, further comforted by the activity. That meant all was well. You could proceed without alarm.

It was indeed cold out and it didn't help that when the wind blew, it made it all the more frigid. Luckily there were many pine trees along your route and they offered some shelter from the cold breezes. Beneath those same trees, you saw some deer bedding down, likely opting to lay low for now. Their presence was also soothing.

After some more time, you finally reached the top of the hill. And when you reached it, you beheld a beautiful but familiar view.

Your destination was a promontory that overlooked a vast valley. If you looked West, you saw the city of Fornost some miles away. If you looked North, you espied upon vast wilderness and stony, high mountains in the distance. About two dozen miles north, there lay the border of Angmar and Arnor. At the bottom of the valley was the main road that many travelers used to commute to either realm.

This was a duty most of your forefathers had taken upon themselves for many, many years. This was a secret watch post your family had claimed for themselves. They didn't even tell the Arnorian kings of their aerie. It was the best vantage point for miles around and it was very easy to spot an invading force from Angmar from a great distance with the naked eye. The reason why your family took it upon themselves to this task was to prevent another slaughter. And that was a direct result of the one that occurred three hundred years at the hands of the rogue Orcs. They refused to let something like this happen yet again.

Your father and grandfather never told the King about their secret duty. And neither would you tell him. And with them gone, you would fulfill this role and whatever others you could. Where they had departed, there was no returning. And you would only go to see them would be when sickness, old age or the enemy had struck you.

Your eyes perused over the valley, trying to pick out any sort of movement or anything unusual. All you had seen was an empty road, sleeping, bare trees and the sea of snow. Yes, it may have been inactive but you would remain awhile.

For the moment, your gaze turned to the furthermost reaches of the North. You spotted the snow crowned mountains and knew that far beyond there lay wastelands, deep conifer forests, frozen lakes and other treacherous terrain. You had never crossed the border but your father and grandfather had and you heard your fair share of maps, draw pictures and stories of the features of that wretched kingdom. There were sporadic settlements, towns and villages that dotted the Angmarian landscape populated by strange denizens and some of your own folk surprisingly enough.

But there was more to the North than this harsh wilderness and these mixed populations. At the very northern tip of Angmar, nestled deep within the furthest summits of the Misty Mountains, there lay a fortress. There lay Carn Dûm, capital of the kingdom and home of its sole monarch.

Your eyes narrowed as you stared harder. It was impossible to spot the stone, wood and iron-wrought structures of that whispered place. You could not see it but you could at least imagine it from what you were told. But what concerned you the most was the king that dwelled in that place.

Sooner or later, the Mutual Peace would end. It would end in blood, violence and untold carnage, of this you were absolutely sure of. And you were certain your kingdom would fall because of it. The line of the Elendil would fail. Your realm might end up like Gondor's; kingless. It would be destroyed all because the kings of Arnor sought council from strange places and were placated by an even stranger phenomenon.

You would have none of it. In your eyes, they were fools. And the current King, though you admired his great courage and compassion, felt it would be his undoing. The ancient, unsleeping evil in the North would turn on Arnor and return to his true nature. It was inevitable. And if it was to happen within your lifetime, you would be ready. You refused to die unprepared and helpless.

As you stared off into the expanses, you noticed something. It was traveling from the North and making its way to Fornost. You blinked, trying to see if you could identify it. Clearly, it was a flying creature of some sorts. It was also soaring high above, most likely to avoid being shot at by anyone with a bow from below.

After another minute of studying, you recognized it. It was a large raven. Without a doubt, this was one of the messenger ravens sent from Carn Dum. While it was customary for Arnor to use hawks for messaging tasks, Angmar opted for ravens for theirs.

This wasn't an uncommon occurrence. Communication was frequent between the two realms and the separate kingships were in counsel with one another. But the sight of the raven let you know that the lord of Angmar was reaching out to the King and Queen. More than anything else, it only filled you with dread and suspicion. Anything coming from that northerly, cursed place was not a good thing.

That was the only thing you noticed during your watch.

(two days later)

What stirred you from your deep sleep was the rapid, encroaching footfalls. You paid them no mind at first, thinking perhaps it was your two youngest siblings carrying on. But as you woke up slowly and surely more and more, you heard only one pair of feet. There wasn't an accomplice.

You groaned inwardly and turned over onto your side, huddling deeper beneath the thick quilt that covered you. Finally, you had a chance to sleep and now you were going to be disturbed. Already, you could feel wrath and annoyance mounting in your heart. This was not what you had preferred. Did they have to be so ignorant and careless? Did they have to stomp around as if they were a drunken troll?

Then you heard the door to your room swing open. You ignored it the best you could and you refused to open your eyes. Maybe your family member would go away when they'd notice you were still in bed and clearly not wanting to be robbed of your slumber.

"Sister, wake up!"

It was the voice of your youngest sister, Angwen. You could hear the mischief and glee in her voice. Clearly, the brash sixteen year old girl was up to something. Whatever it was, you wanted no part of it. You wanted her to leave you be.

"Sister!"

She spoke entreatingly and there was a sickening sweetness to her voice. You unquestionably loved Angwen and you were close to her but there were times when she frustrated you to no end. This was the perpetual lament of having siblings, you supposed.

She said your name and you heard her walk closer. Then she stopped at your side but still you disregarded her. You finally rose to action when she abruptly tugged your quilt off your bed.

You reared up, now wide awake and severely displeased. You glowered at the beaming face of your sister. She only smiled back at you, unaffected by your misery and sour mood.

"Did you see that I was resting?" you snapped at her.

"Of course I did," she said, still grinning away. "But you needn't be so angry with me, Sister. You see, I had to wake you up. It is very important."

"What could possibly be so dire and urgent?"

"Our brother, Mitharion, returned home with a letter. He just came home from his guard duties only a few minutes ago. The Queen gave the letter to him and bade him to give it to you."

You remained seated in the same position and made no move. The ire on your face melted away and was gradually replaced by confusion. For a moment, you thought you were still asleep. Maybe you were but this was simply some strange and life-like dream. This had to be the most logical explanation.

Your brother indeed served as a member of the King's guard. He was also quite young, nineteen years of age, but he had been groomed to follow in the footsteps of his father and grandfather since he first learned to walk. Mitharion took his duty with great pride and honor and he was delighted to safeguard Arnor's royal family as his ancestors had done so for many centuries.

It wasn't unthinkable for him to interact with the King and his wife. But it was still so jarring to hear that the Queen asked him to deliver a message. And strangest of all, it was addressed to you. You were stunned into witlessness for a few moments.

"Queen Arwen?" you asked, trying to make sure everything sounded clear and concise.

"Who else?" Angwen rolled her eyes.

"Queen Arwen gave our brother a message and told him to give it to me?"

"Yes, that's just what I said. You're tired not dense, Sister."

"How can this be? What business do I have with her?"

"You will find out if you read it! Come!"

She grasped onto one of your hands and pulled you out of your bed. Angwen yanked you along, leading you out of the room and into the hallway.

Numbly, you followed her down the stairs, your mind a mess. Some fear began to swim in the pits of your gut. What if you somehow earned her displeasure? What if this was some sort of serious summons that wouldn't end well for you? What had you even done to even warrant this? None of this made any sense. It seemed too random for your liking.

Angwen guided you down the wooden staircase that led to the first floor of your abode. As you traversed down the stairs, you immediately were granted a view of the kitchen. In the kitchen stood the rest of your family members. Your other sister, Lithwen, Mitharion, your youngest sibling, Venarion and your mother were all gathered there. Your eyes met theirs when they heard you and Angwen come down the stairs.

"Angwen told you of your letter, my child?" your mother asked.

"Yes," you said breathlessly. "Mitharion, how came you by this?"

"Queen Arwen told me to give this to you," your brother revealed. "She approached me and gently placed it into my hands. She knew my shift ended and I was going to come home. She wanted me to deliver it to you…" He looked as baffled as you did. "I tried to ask her about it but she only smiled and said to be patient."

Queen Arwen had a gentle and good heart. There was no malice to her and now you started to feel foolish for jumping to unpleasant conclusions only moments ago. Now it felt so unnecessary.

You met her only two times. The first time was at her coronation and that was from afar. The second time was at the joint funeral of your father and grandfather. Both times, she seemed so fair and soft. She spoke sweetly and you could never form an ill opinion of her even if you tried your hardest. She seemed too pure to have any hatred directed towards her.

You and Angwen finally made it to the bottom of the stairs. Then the two of you entered the kitchen, joining the rest of your family.

"Whatever this is, this may be fortune smiling upon us," your mother said with a tiny smile. "Open it, my dear." She held it out to you. "Let's see what the Queen has in mind for you."

The red, wax seal of the royal household stood out amidst the ivory colored parchment. You hesitated, only staring at the sealed letter for a few seconds. Your mind ran wild and you tried to ignore the heaviness of anxiety in your belly.

Finally, you reached for it and then grabbed it. Your family drew closer to you which did nothing to dispel the growing panic. You exhaled slowly and steadily.

All was well. It had to be.

You broke the seal and unfolded the letter. You beheld the Queen's flowing, neat script and took another moment to compose yourself. You took a deep breath and then proceeded to read it out loud. Your name was indeed on here. It was truly addressed to you. This was no mistake.

" _My dear, I trust you are well or I hope that it is so_ ," you began, speaking loudly and clearly so all of your kin heard it. " _I know that the last time I saw you, you were mired in woe and despond. I understand your grief and I am still so very sorry about the incident that prematurely claimed Aldahir and Kalahir. They were great and honorable Men of the King's Guard and the King still grieves over their loss. As you know, your grandfather and the King were close and they grew up together. And due to this bond, my husband has always favored and looked affectionately upon you and your family. He is fond of all of you and with their deaths, he seeks to make sure your needs are met and you are taken care of properly…_ "

"Bless the Queen," your mother sighed. "Bless the Elves for having such a good and compassionate woman."

"And bless the King for that matter," Lithwen chimed in. "We are lucky."

" _I have had a source or two tell me that your mourning is continuing. A year has passed and while I understand your trouble, the source has asserted to me that you require healing and a diversion_ …"

You were not happy to read that part.

Your eyes averted from the letter and you studied each of your family members. You only wondered which of them had possibly been divulging this information to the Queen. Oh, you were not amused. It was almost offensive to see that one of these members of your kin was not pleased with the way you were dealing with the tragedy. It angered you as it sunk in further.

"Read it," your mother coerced.

At that instant, you knew who Arwen's source was. The way she didn't blink and looked back at you was damning. There was too much of a challenging inflection in her eyes.

Despite the sweltering rage building up inside of you, you forced yourself to look back at the letter. At any moment, you felt as if you were about to turn into a dragon and belch forth fire.

" _An opportunity has presented itself to me and thus I extend it to you in turn, my dear_ ," you continued. " _In April, I am due to make a journey and I invite you to join me and my entourage. We will be gone for a few months and we will be back before winter of next year. I have received a message from Carn Dûm two days ago, inviting me to go North to visit and stay with my distant, long-sundered cousin_ …"

You could read no further. No, you refused to read any more.

"N-no," you said, choking on your own voice. "Absolutely not!" You slammed the letter on the kitchen table, making the utensils placed on the surface to lightly shake. "I will not go!" Your anger finally burst forth and you leered at your remaining parent. "Mother, this is your meddling!"

"You have languished and moped long enough!" she argued. "I cannot bear it any longer and it is most unbecoming of you!"

"How can you say that?! Your husband, my father, was killed at the border by insurrectionists! Your husband and father-in-law were gutted by filthy Orcish blades!"

"The investigation concluded it was not a killing made by Orcs allied with the Witch-king! It was made by a rogue band of Gundabad Orcs! You know that they refuse to acknowledge his lordship and they continue to sow trouble for both kingdoms!"

"I don't care! Creatures wrought from darkness killed Father and Grandfather and they are now lost because of it! You are not angry? You are not suspicious and hateful over this?"

"Because I trust in the King and Queen. The men in our kin's group were also slaughtered, my daughter. It was not just two who died that day and you must not forget that. The investigation was a cooperative effort by both realms. It was a setup and you will not accept this."

"I never will! This could have been prevented, this could have been stopped somehow!"

"Anger will not bring them back and you know this. I know you miss them. You also forget that we loved them as well. You have changed. You have turned distasteful, bitter and hateful."

"And so you deem it appropriate to divulge these precious and private matters to the Queen?" You became increasingly exasperated. "Mother, it's not her business!"

"I stand with Mother in this decision," Lithwen stepped in, defending her. "This needs to be done, Sister."

This was only adding more fuel to the inferno. It suddenly seemed as if you had so many enemies coming out of nowhere. This was uncalled for and humiliating in your eyes.

"Of course you stand with her," you laughed harshly. "You're the second daughter and Mother's favorite. Perfect, prim, maidenly and bright Lithwen. You're her puppet and lackey."

"This is between you and I," your mother said forcefully. "Leave her out of this. Your sister is equally concerned about you as I am. And your brothers and other sister may not say it but we are all worried for you. We still mourn their loss and our lives will not ever be the same but we have moved on because we have no choice! You need to realize this!"

"You think shipping me off to Angmar will help with anything? Have you lost all your senses and wits? Or perhaps you are that desperate to be rid of me?"

There was silence. Momentarily, your mother averted her gaze from yours. It was almost like she couldn't bear the sight of you for the slightest instant. Or it was if she was struggling to confirm your accusations.

"This is for your own good, my dear," she said. "Time away from home will help you. You dwell too much on the past and it is not helping you. You cannot let your pain and sorrow consume you. That will lead you down a dark and perilous road and you know it."

"I will not step one foot over that border," you growled. "I will never pass the gates of Carn Dûm and you will never see me received into the Hall of Renown where I will see that…creature sitting on his throne. That is my decision and that is final."

"But you will be going with the Queen," Mitharion said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation and placate you. "Sister, you are not going alone. You will be with her and the entourage."

At an instant, you felt like you were about to burst like a brittle dam. You were already infuriated by your mother's interference and Lithwen's input and now Mitharion's contribution was also bearing down on you. You felt overwhelmed and maybe even betrayed.

"Angwen," you said, turning to her. "What say you of this mess?"

Your typically brash, bold sister seemed speechless. She looked reluctant and cornered. Clearly, she was uncomfortable.

"You seemed to have changed," she finally confessed. "I will agree with everyone else on that."

"But going to Angmar?" you persisted. "Would you send me there?"

"I… I would send you elsewhere. I know you loathe that land. I would send you to a place of your choosing at least."

"Thank you, Angwen! I am happy to have an ally!"

You noticed your youngest sibling, Venarion, clinging to your mother. He looked at you, his eyes wide and reminding you of a fawn's. He was so quiet and young and at times, you forgot he was even present in the same room you were in. Yet like with all of your siblings, you adored him.

He seemed so fearful. And when you noticed that in his eyes, you felt your heart sink. There was no wish in you to fill him with terror. You didn't want to become a monster to him.

You were the eldest of your siblings. You helped your mother raise your two brothers and sisters and it was all a joy. Truly, you were grateful for them and you cherished them dearly. And more than anything else, you didn't want to lose their fellowship and the bonds you established with them.

Venarion had doused some of that inferno. It smoldered but your resolve remained. This was folly. This was madness.

"I can't," you said, your tone far more even and level now.

"You are going," your mother asserted.

"I said no!"

"You still live in my house and you are my eldest child. There must be more to that letter. Pick it up and finish reading it."

"It literally sickens me, I cannot."

Angwen took the liberty to resume the task. She carefully plucked up the letter and read through it briefly, trying to find where you left off. Her eyes danced over the parchment and then she opened her mouth.

" _He will welcome us into his halls and we will be treated with utmost courtesy and hospitality_ ," the youngest sister recited. " _I know his reputation and person is a fervently contested controversy within Arnor and throughout many other kingdoms and realms for that matter. But you must trust me when I say that he is a good, honorable and fair Man. He was once lost but he has been found and I am among the last, closest relatives he has despite us being separated by many years and generations. I seek to preserve our friendship and alliance and I implore you to have an open mind. I hope you will accept my invitation. Once you have made your decision, please pen your reply and give it to your brother so that he may return it to me. Also, you may bring one companion with you during the visit. I eagerly wait for your reply_."

It was unthinkable. Very few Dúnedain went to Carn Dûm willingly and the great majority that were sent to that place were there for military or political matters. And once their business was concluded, they were eager to return home.

"Who in the name of the Valar would send their child to spend a few months in the court of the Witch-king?" you asked, becoming aghast by your mother's insistency. "Have you been bewitched, Mother?"

"You will be in the company of the Queen," your mother retorted. Her tone was steadfast and her face, firm. "No harm will come to you. If I didn't trust her, of course I wouldn't be so adamant. But you must go. Leaving home will help and meeting new people will also heal you. Being with the Queen will also help soothe you and put your heart at ease."

The prospect disturbed and frightened you. Your mother sounded so confident that it was unsettling. Was she not afraid of the shadow in the North? Did she not realize that the lord of Angmar was freed from the thrall of his master in the East? But did she also not fear that he could fall under his influence again? Did she not think that if he fell into his previous servitude again, he would potentially wipe out all of Arnor and slaughter all of the Dúnedain? How on earth could she be so foolish and dense?

"And you may bring a friend with you," Angwen grinned. "That will be me."

"You're not going because I'm not going," you scoffed.

"I have to keep you in line, Sister and prevent a war from breaking out."

"Then the best way to prevent it is to not send me. I must decline the Queen's invitation."

"You are stubborn, my dear," your mother raised a brow. "But you will not win."

"It is enlightening to know that my mother would rather have her child catch the Black Breath than have her stay in her own house anymore." You turned and made your way to go back upstairs. You had your duty to attend to and you were weary of this subject. "I'm finished."

None of them said a thing nor pursued you as you went to change your clothes. That suited you just fine.

In your eyes, to willingly become a guest of the Witch-king was to insult the memory of your beloved dead. You would not suffer this.


	2. The Discourse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The future becomes just a bit clearer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments/kudos/bookmarks guys! I’m glad you liked the intro chapter, I admit I was a little worried about it at first.
> 
> I had fun with this one. As much as Tolkien did so much world building and exploration of his many different races and cultures, I wanted to have a crack at it too. Angmar is already vastly different than its canon counterpart but it’ll be fun to describe and show it as the story goes along. I’m psyched for it, I really am LOL. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this update!

Chapter 2 The Discourse

(four days later)

For four days, you waged war. You loathed to even enter your own house for you knew what dwelled within it. Your mother, Lithwen and Mitharion all encouraged and hounded you regarding the dreaded matter. They asserted it was the best thing for you. They were convinced that somehow, you would return from the visit, reborn. You became increasingly convinced that they must've been beset by some sort of spell. Maybe some witch from Angmar had infiltrated your home and was assailing your family.

Because of this, you avoided them. Now you liked to stay outside from sunrise to well past sunset so you wouldn't have to bicker with them. You brought heavier and thicker garments with you, preferring to face the elements rather than your insistent relatives. In all honesty, it alarmed you.

You huddled around the campfire you constructed. You exiled yourself to the promontory, choosing to sit outside and have no company save for yourself and the crackling, dancing flames. At least the fire didn't judge you or told you to go on some pointless and insulting journey. All it did was burn you if you got too close and provided comfort at just the right distance. You kept it alit while you maintained your watch, not seeing any reason to do anything else.

A few family members made comments over the months regarding you. They said your attitude had soured and your heart became hardened. But you ignored it, thinking that they were only rude or irritated at you for one reason or another. They said you also became distant and aloof. There was an undeniable malaise that veiled you.

To you, it seemed as if they were incapable of dealing with or even feeling grief as time still flowed by. When the news first arrived, everyone was devastated and saddened. It was a swift and brutal tragedy and no one could've been possibly prepared for it. Every single member of your kin was grieving and overwhelmed.

But it seemed that they were all placated by the investigation. They were sad yet they were not angered. That was what you didn't comprehend. How could they be satisfied with that conclusion?

You didn't accept it. You were absolutely convinced it was a conspiracy wrought by Angmar. There was no explicit proof but the seeds of distrust and hatred were sown. Long had you been wary and suspicious of your northerly neighbor. But with the slaughter of your grandfather, father and their brothers-in-arms, it became personal. You wouldn't be surprised if it turned out that this was the machinations of the Witch-king himself. You expected it but yet it was not to be. No link was discovered.

Today was a little warmer than it was over the past few days so it was a relief. That made enduring the elements that much easier so you couldn't complain too much. This was a blessing and you were more than ready to receive it. You still had yet to go through January, February and March. The weather would not truly lighten and change until April. Frost and cold would rule for those few months and there wasn't much that you could do about it.

Endurance, bravery, loyalty, staunchness and steadfastness. These were the qualities one could use to define your people. There was also a dash of pride sprinkled in that concoction as well. In your eyes, there was nothing wrong with that. The Elves might frown upon it but you would be quick to remind them of the days and devastation of the Oath of Fëanor if one ever scolded you about the folly of Men. You would not suffer that attack upon your people.

Your eyes were focused and fixed on the valley before you. All was calm and quiet. No messenger birds were flying to and from. No convoys or solitary wagons set out or arrived at. It was uneventful and maybe even a bit dull. But in your eyes, it was still necessary.

But your attention was broken when you heard a branch snap a ways from your makeshift camp. In a flash, your hand was on the hilt of the dagger around your waist. You were about to draw it, assuming the worst for an instant. But when you located the source of the disturbance, your hand lowered.

"Sister," Angwen greeted you. "I thought I would find you here."

"We should be taking turns, Angwen," you said. "I would appreciate it." You moved over, inviting her to sit on the log next to you and take refuge by the fire. "We may never know when the enemy will finally become impatient and attack. I prefer that we are at least somewhat prepared rather than caught off guard and slaughtered."

Your youngest sister happily took her seat by the dancing, orange warmth. She huddled up in her woolen cloak and leaned in closer to the firepit.

"How long do you plan on staying here?" she pressed.

"Ah, Mother sent you," you sighed. "You're her envoy."

"I am here for both you and her."

"So you say."

"I am not your enemy and you know this."

"I know. And I know you still have no choice but to obey her. You are the fourth child and you are so young."

You rose from your seat and walked over to the pile of tinder and firewood you previously collected. Then you placed a few decently sized pieces into the fire, wanting to feed it and keep it going. You could sense tension but you tried to ignore it for the moment. Angwen was the sibling you were closest with and you didn't want to sow dissension with her.

"So, say what needs to be said," you urged. "I would rather parlay with you as her representative anyway than face her in person."

"You know this cannot be avoided, Sister," Angwen huffed. "You have to come to a decision today. Mitharion is going in for his shift tonight and you must write something and give it to him before he goes. You shouldn't keep the Queen waiting. She reached out to you, the least you can do is reply in a timely manner."

"It makes my skin crawl, it turns my stomach sour…"

"I know it does. But I think that is a reason why she said she would permit someone to go with you. And that is why I volunteer to accompany you."

"Angwen, tell me this plainly… Do you believe that the Witch-king really is our ally?"

Instantly, you could tell that she was not prepared for that question. She blinked and her eyes widened. The younger girl fell silent and she averted her gaze from yours. Her head turned to the fire and she remained quiet, unsure of what to say, think or do.

"Sister, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure," she finally said after a moment of deafening silence.

"You must enlighten me then," you coerced her. "I truly am curious and want to hear your reasoning."

"He has been our neighbor for nearly two thousand years and has not struck out at us at all. Since the beginning, he has called for and maintained peace. Sure, there have been framings and conspiracies uncovered that tried to shift blame or incidents on him but those were all brought to light."

That was true. You would give her credit for that.

"Surely, if he was truly under Sauron's thrall again, he would've turned on us long ago," Angwen reasoned. "I highly doubt that he would tell him to go on this thousand-year charade. Sauron wants us eradicated and wants it done as quickly as possible. I believe that the Witch-king is no longer under his thumb and I think that as long as the Ring remains lost, that will be in our favor. The instant it is reclaimed by Sauron, then, he will turn on us. He and the other Nazgûl that freed themselves would find themselves chained to him again."

"But he is still a threat," you stated. "This is a conditional peace. The instant that one condition is broken, our kingdom will be razed. We will be driven into death and darkness. Why must we tolerate this? Why should we risk everything for this? How could anyone ever forget the horrors of the Second Age? The Nazgûl are our enemies, they are not our friends and confidants. And a kingdom ruled by their chief is a nightmare. And that nightmare is our neighbor and reality."

"The Kings of Arnor accepted it. They accepted the counsel of the Elves and the Wizards. They trusted them and they lived by that for all these years."

"But you are not afraid in the slightest bit? You do not have horrific reveries of his hordes coming and hewing you and our family?"

"Of course I worry about it! But I think it unlikely."

"Then we must pray that the Ring never, ever comes to light again. I fear that if it does, we will be on the road to doom. Everything that we hold dear and everything that is good and true is going to be set ablaze and torn asunder. We will lose and nothing will be done. Look at the Elves. More of their number are leaving to set sail into the West. They choose to run. But not us. We will stand and fight and cling til the very end."

"Hasn't he remembered his past? Hasn't he remembered his lost name and identity?"

"Dubious, Sister."

"No. The Queen calls him her cousin. He is a member of the line of Elros... You know the claim and the stories surrounding that.”

You still thought it so strange and unusual. The Nazgûl were supposed to be nameless and unable to recall anything from their previous lives. That's the way it was deemed it was. But as the Witch-king remained distant from his master, he was suddenly able to remember whom he once was. You've heard your fair share of the tales and rumors about it and you knew all too well of the claim of Queen Arwen. You wanted to ignore it, thinking it was merely a ploy to placate your people and try to douse the suspicions.

But you also thought it odd that she would stand with him and defend him. The Elves were meant to be enemies of the Enemy. And yet she treated him as family and called him cousin. Perhaps she was either a colossal, daft fool or was in league with the Shadow. Neither option made much sense in your eyes. It was simply beyond your understanding.

"She is the daughter of Elrond of Rivendell," Angwen continued. "She would not be reaching out to the Witch-king if he was of evil mind and heart. That is why I think you should heed her invitation and go."

"I cannot forget or let go of the past," you said. "To ignore it is to invite peril. He still is a Wraith. One cannot see his face. His voice is supposed to be like rattling icicles above a window. His eyeless stare is said to cut through a Man and wither his very soul. And despite him supposedly being on our side, he bears the moniker of Witch-king. He practices sorcery and that magic is stepped in the ways of the Dark Lord. So how can that be?"

"I know not, Sister. You know that I don't have all the answers."

"Then my judgement is firm and sound. I will never trust him and I will remain on my perch until my hour."

Angwen took both of your hands and held them in hers. Her eyes looked into yours with intense earnest.

"I know you are mindful and hurt," she said. "And when you speak of these matters, I almost swear I hear Grandfather talking instead of you. You know how much he hated and feared the Witch-king. And I think you take this matter all the more seriously due to his death."

"He raised us to be keen and prepared," you snorted. "He taught each of us how to hold our own and defend ourselves should the host of the North cross the border and threaten us. I am thankful for what he taught me. If I am to die against the forces of Angmar one day, then I will be sure to take as many of their foul soldiers with me before the very end. I will not die helpless and weak. I will die defending my home, people, kin and kingdom." You rested your forehead against hers. "Angwen, I am loyal. Do not forget it."

She held your hands tighter.

"You think you shall go to your death if you say yes," she said. "Banish such things from your head, Sister. I know you are distrusting and I know you are worried about our future. But I think you should go. Get away from home for a few months. New sights and people will do your heart well."

You knew that she cared. It was difficult to understand how and why she was able to resound in you more clearly and loudly than the other members of your family. She knew how to speak to you. Although she could be foolish and hardheaded at times, she could also be wise in some instances. That was something you valued about her. Angwen provided insight and you felt as if you could speak with her on anything.

And like you, she was also stubborn. Obstinate, even.

"I will go with you and I will not back out of it," she promised. "Mother will happily let me go. I am merely a spare daughter after all. She will not miss me. We will go to Carn Dûm with the Queen together. We will be accepted into the court of the Witch-king together. And he will look at us and we will strike fear into his heart. And he will know that the daughters of the Dúnedain are not to be trifled with."

A quiet laugh slipped past your lips at her words. That was something you couldn't hold back even if you tried. That would've been a fool's hope.

"You must reply today," she asserted. "There are only a few hours left until our brother must go."

You heard so much, almost too much about the frozen and accursed land. There was all this talk and yet you never saw it for yourself. Your entire life was spent in Arnor, specifically in and around Fornost. The world, that world, was small and you knew it well. But the things that lay outside of it did call to you. The world outside the one you lived in was vast and was filled with many wonderful and also terrible things. When you were younger, it was enchanting but as you aged, your heart became closed off and guarded against this allure.

Yet now, it was coming to light again. You were remembering that charm. The opportunity to travel and see other lands was personally extended to you. You would finally behold the often gossiped and regaled lands of Angmar. You would witness the cold, stony rivers, the frozen lakes, the dark expanses of the conifer forests, the crowned peaks of the sheer mountains, and the tucked away sanctuary of Carn Dûm. In a strange way, it almost reminded you of a second Gondolin…

You also saw another opportunity with this offer. You could survey and investigate on your own. You could spy and see whatever the citizens of Angmar were doing and possibly plotting. Maybe you could estimate the size and composition of their army and make secretive preparations. Hearing of accounts was one thing. But actually seeing these subjects first hand and viewing them with your own eyes was another thing altogether. You could either confirm or deny these tales you had grown up listening to.

This was indeed a golden opportunity. You would be a member of the Arnorian queen's entourage and you would be granted access to things no normal visitor would be able to even look upon. You might very well never get a chance like this again. The more you thought about it, the more you realized you couldn't possibly pass up on this boon.

And there was also the greatest prize of them all. You would meet the Witch-king himself. The reality chilled you but you needed to see him for yourself. You could confirm or refute all these myths and legends. It was something you had never seen coming and now all of this was made ready for you.

Perhaps you did feel like a hypocrite. You were so adamant, so dead-set against the idea. Now it was all the more tempting. Now you couldn't resist. It was amusing how attitudes could change when the right words were spoken.

"Someone else will have to man the promontory come April," you finally decided. "I will be away for some time."

Angwen's eyes glowed in delight and her smile expanded massively. She threw her arms around you and embraced you tightly.

"We will go to Angmar together in royal company!" she laughed. "Oh, what fun we will have and what sights we will see! This will be a treat! We have to start planning and packing already! April will be here before we know it!"

"I suppose I have a reply to write," you smiled. "I shouldn't keep her waiting much longer."

(ten days later – Carn Dûm)

Sometimes it felt as if winter never surrendered its grip on the northern most settlement of the kingdom of Angmar. Only in summer was there a noticeable change and even during that sunny and more merciful month, it seemed like it was only fleeting. The cold, snow and cloudiness would always prevail in the end of it all.

The denizens of Angmar were hardened, rugged and resourceful folk. They were counted amongst some of the most skilled and seasoned survivalists in the whole of Middle Earth as many of them lived in this punishing land for their whole lives. They eked their living out of the frosted ground and were not afraid of any challenges that came their way. They looked at hardships as trials that would mold them into something worthier and stronger. What didn't kill them would make them stronger. Physical and mental fortitude was highly valued. Anything less would not be enough to survive their land.

Winter was a mixed blessing for the people of Angmar. They knew they would be tested and it was possible some of their number might not survive. But it was also necessary and it was a reprieve for they knew their neighbors to the South wouldn't dare to attack during this season. Arnorians hated winter and were less likely to cross the border and visit Angmar altogether. Their threat had lessened during this time but their watch only increased.

For nearly two thousand years, their kingdom grew and flowered. Despite the odds and forbidding geography and hostile climate, the Angmarim flourished steadily. Many of them were outcasts of their own tribes and peoples and they all congregated together. From this union of various castaways, they formed their society and united under the banner and rule of their king. Dwarves, many varieties of Men and Orcs stood together, all drawn together for one reason or another and all worked to forge Angmar.

The Angmarim quietly and patiently built their kingdom while they endured the scrutiny and sometimes belligerent distrust of the Dúnedain to the South. They feared and prepared, suspecting that their neighbors would finally lose their patience, invade and eradicate them. The past was hard to forget and they knew it all too well. The Orc inhabitants were particularly anxious and many of the Black Númenoreans shared the same concerns.

But the Angmarim would not strike out at their neighbors. For so long they heeded the words and decrees of their sole monarch and would not betray him. He desired peace and community and they were his loyal subjects. They did not want to be the disturbers of the peace and so held their ground for centuries. They would not be the ones to declare war but if the Arnorians were to insist upon it, they would defend themselves. They would not fall to their knees and allow themselves to be butchered by Dúnedain steel. They would fight back and defend their home and families no matter the cost or the odds.

There were some of their number who desired war and carnage and actively sought to start conflict with the Arnorians. But most of the time, those dissenters were quickly rooted out and dealt with. Sometimes, they were dealt with fatally, depending on their crime and intentions. Conspiracies were not tolerated in the slightest bit and the most previous one concerning the slaughter of King Aragorn's trusted guard that happened a year ago caused great anxiety and paranoia amongst the citizens of Angmar. But both kings had handled the situation with poise, grace and cooperated smoothly in the consequent investigation. Rebellious, upstart Gundabad Orcs were the culprits and those tied to the framing were executed. The Witch-king took great offense to matters of that nature and was swift to dole out punishment. He would not let such seeds be sown.

Far in the North, he dwelled where the cold was at its most bitter and the snow at its deepest. The sprawl of Carn Dûm consisted of many residential buildings along with smithies, markets, barracks, a few government buildings, stables, clinics and some other, typical structures. It was constructed like any other citadel and its walls were built of iron and stone, its design meaning to intimidate and discourage invaders and protect its inhabitants. The city always smelt of firewood, roasted meat and rust and the mountain air was perpetually chilly and crisp.

At the highest point of Carn Dûm sat the palace where the Witch-king dwelt. His domain was wrought from wood, iron and stone and it rose high above the sprawl of his fortressed city. It wielded a commanding air and those who looked upon it were filled with dread or wonder or both. At the highest height of the palace, ravens roosted and glided about, their calls ringing through the mountain air.

Within his halls, there were many rooms. The dining hall was vast and mighty, wrought-iron chandeliers hung from the beamed ceilings. Yet the former servant of Sauron never ate or drank and this room was only used when guests lodged in his home. Beneath the dining hall was the cellar and in that cellar were large oaken barrels that fermented and contained wine. The wine grown in Angmar was strong and robust and it would make even the most seasoned drunkards and connoisseurs overwhelmed by its potency if they had imbibed too much of it. Despite that reputation, it was still popular and along with iron ore and various other minerals, it was a commonly exported item.

The guests' suites were always accommodating and warm. Windows in these rooms provided magnificent views of the mountains surrounding Carn Dûm and there were plenty of furs and blankets available to make sleep comfortable and possible in the cold. Each guest room was also equipped with a fireplace, offering further warmth to the inhabitant. There were also washbasins, dressers, chairs and mirrors as well.

There was a huge library that spanned two floors that could only be accessed by spiral staircases. The collection of tomes was expansive and they contained subjects ranging from history, to medicine, architecture, animal and plant life, and so many other things few and far between. There was a selection for every visitor to pick and read if the urge ever struck them fancy.

There were many grand rooms that would impress most visitors. But perhaps the most notable and iconic feature of the Witch-king's home was the Hall of Renown. It was his throne room and it was spacious and tasteful. In some strange way, it made one recall the throne room of Fornost. It was indeed large and the ceiling stood about seventy feet high off the stone floor. Along the lengths of both sides of the room were stained glass windows. Depicted on these windows were images of notable battles and events that shaped Middle Earth. One of these images depicted the battle between Ecthelion of the Fountain and Gothmog, the lord of Balrogs at the Fall of Gondolin. Another few scenes portrayed on the windows were of the slaying of Glaurung, the transformation of Elwing into a swan, the sinking of Númenor and the defeat of Sauron by Isildur's hand. Various, lit sconces were hung up on the cold, marble pillars that led up to the pedestal that bore the throne. The large banner of Angmar, consisting of the colors of black, silver, blue and the emblazoned image of the fearsome Iron Crown, hung up behind the carved stone throne.

On this day, he waited. Upon his throne he sat, knowing that obviously he wouldn't be receiving a reply right away. Ravens were not as fast as hawks and the darker birds were better suited to live in Carn Dûm than the latter species. They were smart and determined creatures but not as swift as the hawk but that was alright. Steadiness and hardiness were valued.

He also knew that the Queen of Arnor needed to see if she would actually be able to accept his invitation. She indeed did have a schedule of her own and he did not want to impede or inconvenience her. But he did hope she would accept it. The last time he had seen was when he attended her coronation two years earlier. They kept in touch with letters but he desired to see her in person. He treasured her company, warmth and wisdom and he sought to remain on good terms with the being he was most closely related to. Although they were distant cousins, he still thought of her as family and he would cherish their kinship even if it had long been diluted. He was far more Man than Elf anyway.

It was peaceful though. Things were quiet and at times, he like the silence and serenity. It cleared his mind and made him feel somewhat like he was in his past life again. Oh, he would do anything to have that back… Accepting that ring was the most colossal mistake he ever made. Four thousand years later, he was still paying for it.

He turned his head to the side, hearing the howling of the wind outside his home. There was a draft emanating from somewhere and he could see the flames in the sconces flicker as the wind blew. He whispered something in Black Speech lowly and the breeze died down. The flames no longer danced so feverishly atop the wicks.

Once he heard the wind settle, he could hear the all too familiar cry of a raven. His invisible face turned to a window situated high up towards the ceiling, above the stained glass and marble pillars. The window was partially ajar and he uttered another spell, letting it open wider, knowing that the bird was closing in.

Mere seconds after he opened it more, the black, feathered animal glided through the window. It decelerated, circling around the throne room as it slowed down. It cawed loudly, announcing its intentions and flying lower.

The Witch-king raised one of his arms, inviting the messenger raven to perch on it. The winged animal happily took up its offer and landed on his forearm.

"Morclaur," he said, his raspy voice containing fondness as he addressed the bird. "Ah, it is a joy to see you."

The raven’s dark eyes seemed to flash brightly as she looked upon the faceless but familiar shape of her master. Her tail feathers wiggled in contentment as he regarded her and she lowered her head at him. She was appeased when he tenderly scratched the back of her neck.

"You are spoiled but I cannot help that you are my favorite," he laughed softly. He spotted the letter attached to her left leg. "Ah, and you indeed have a reply from Fornost to give me."

Carefully, he unraveled the letter from her leg. It indeed bore the seal of the Arnorian royal family. He was most eager to read it and see what she had to say.

Once he freed Morclaur from her burden, the bird evacuated her perch on his arm. She simply moved to the top of his throne, resting there contently and letting her master read in peace.

Without wasting another moment, he broke the seal. Then he unfolded the parchment, his unseen eyes falling upon the Queen's handwriting.

_"Dearest cousin, first I must thank you for your generosity and hospitality. That is something I have always admired about you and I am truly grateful for it. Although your lands may be unforgiving and harsh, you and your people are anything but that. I ardently desire the people of my nation to see what I see in you._

_I have written back to you to let you know that I accept your invitation. I much desire to see and speak with you once more. Your company is enlightening and yet soothing and I have grown all too fond of it over the years. I couldn't turn it down even if I tried, my king._

_I will depart from Fornost in early April and I will leave with my entourage. I plan on bringing along a small company of soldiers to ease their minds. I trust your servants and you but my entourage's fears revolve around ravenous wolves and bloodthirsty Orcs. The group will be tiny, no more than six of them will accompany me. You need not fret too much about having a short supply of guest rooms and we will not drain too much of your wine nor consume too much of your food! If the weather is kind and permitting enough, I hope the journey will be shorter and I will arrive at your home more quickly._

_Please, I beg you to not overprepare for our arrival. Your grace and warmth is wonderful as is and you have always been a generous host. It is merely myself and my companions._

_And I agree with your suggestion that I shall return to Fornost either in mid to late September or early October. I suppose that is entirely dependent on the climate and other unseen, extenuating circumstances that may or may not occur during the visit. We shall not know until the time comes. Regardless, I am filled with joy at the prospect of reuniting with you and every day that goes by fills me with more anticipation._

_If there are finer details we must discuss prior to my arrival, please write back to me at your earliest convenience. If I have any questions, I will be sure to write to you in turn but I believe everything was outlined clearly enough in your invitation. My husband also has faith in you and he trusts in you fully. You know that he holds you in high respect and regard._

_I hope this letter finds you well, dearest cousin. I hope your heart is lighter. I know your mind is always running wild and filled with many fears and stresses. Worries of the evil in the East are ever in your thoughts and I understand them for they are my terrors as well. But I deem that this visit will soothe you and help you find some peace._

_I look forward to seeing you in the spring. Yours in kinship and loyalty, Arwen._ "

He imagined her voice as he read the letter. A small was on his lips as he read it, happy with the results of it and eagerness filled him. She was like a ray of sunshine in his life and he felt lucky to have her in it. He never cherished her romantically but the affection he felt for her was pure and familial. In truth, he never thought he would able to remember love after being corrupted and warped by Sauron for so long but that was challenged and ultimately defeated when she reached out to him many years ago. She earned a place in his heart and he would gladly let her remain there.

However, the Witch-king thought it was strange that her planned entourage was going to be smaller. Since she was the queen of Arnor, he expected it to be much larger yet he wouldn't think about it too much. It would be a tinier group and it would be that much easier to appease them. That actually made the matter a little less complicated. They were his cousin's companions and he would treat them respectfully and amicably.

His mood brightened up considerably. A small laugh came from him and he carefully folded up the letter and stuffed it into his robes. He glanced upwards, seeing Morclaur peering back at him.

"The sun will melt the frost of Angmar," he uttered. "With her arrival, spring will come and it will be the brightest, greenest and liveliest spring this kingdom ever saw." He lifted his arm, allowing her to step up onto one of his outstretched fingers and walk across his armored hand. "We have much work to do, my pet."

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, any questions or anything just say it, I’m more than happy to explain without spoiling too much. I’m aware that this beginning may be a little rough or confusing but I promise things will be clearer as the story goes on. Thank you!


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